


Guide to Physical Examination and History-Taking

by arainymonday



Series: Gray's Anatomy [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Grey's Anatomy-esque, M/M, Medical Trauma, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 16:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6813577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainymonday/pseuds/arainymonday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A surgical team from Central City General Hospital, including Dr. Leonard Snart and Dr. Barry Allen, are invited to join a once-in-a-career surgery being performed at Starling General Hospital. During their time in Starling, Len is brought face-to-face with Barry’s romantic past and what that past means for their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide to Physical Examination and History-Taking

On any given day, Len spends hours elbow-deep in blood. It can be as harrowing and traumatic as it sounds, but it can also be incredibly rewarding. The same cannot be said of spending hours elbow-deep in cardboard, even if doing so means he and Barry are finally - four months late because residents’ schedules are brutal, but finally - moving in together.

Navigating the question of yours-or-mine is trickier than expected. Barry doesn’t have a lot of possessions. The foster system doesn’t inspire children to collect more than one suitcase’s worth of belongings and neither do college dormitories, but for completely different and more palatable reasons. Everything that Barry owns is precious to him. So every time Barry takes an item out of a box and looks around nervously, like he’s not sure where to put it or if it even belongs in their apartment, Len feels a pain in his chest.

“Okay,” Len declares. “Enough.”

Barry stares at him wide-eyed and clutches the picture frame to his chest like he thinks Len has drawn a line and nothing else can claim a place on a shelf or in a drawer or hanging in a closet after this. Len takes the photograph from his reluctant fingers. It’s a picture of Barry’s cohort on their first day of residency. Fourteen interns now pared down to just five residents. He removes a decorative vase from the bookcase and replaces it with the picture frame.

“This is your home. Our things go wherever you want them to go. They belong here. You belong here.”

Barry purses his lips. “I don’t want to destroy your decor. It’s very ... deliberate.”

Len scans the room, trying to see it as Barry sees it. The apartment has a certain style. The furniture is all dark wood, the colors muted blues and purples and greens, the accent pieces are large but sparse. It appeals to Len. But not as much as the errant earbuds peeking out from behind a throw pillow and red and gold running shoes sitting beside the shoe rack instead of on it and the plethora of junk food piled on top of the refrigerator because the pantry is also full of junk food.

“Yes, I’m sure the decorator at the furniture store was very deliberate when they set it all up on the showroom floor.”

“Wait, wait.” Barry holds his hands up to emphasize his epiphany. “You didn’t decorate your apartment? For real? I’ve been admiring your sophisticated taste for two years and it’s not even your style?”

“I picked it out,” Len says defensively. “It’s my style.”

“Oh my God. That’s why the bathroom is so ugly. They don’t have showroom bathrooms you can buy.”

“The bathroom isn’t ugly.” Barry scrunches up his face and cocks an eyebrow. “Fine. That’s why the bathroom is ... a work in progress.”

Barry laughs, a little unkindly, but not maliciously. “I can fix the bathroom.”

“You can’t even dress yourself properly.”

“I’ve gotten better. I can tie my own tie without watching a YouTube video.”

“Because I taught you how.”

“Right. So I’ll teach you about interior decorating. My mom -” Barry stops, and when he starts again, his voice is more somber. “My mom loved having a beautiful home.”

Barry shakes his head as if to clear away the memory and pulls another framed picture from the box of bubble wrap. He decides to place it beside the other picture frame. It’s a nice aesthetic, one picture landscape and one portrait.

“I’m going to be so much less stressed about unpacking now that I know none of this stuff has sentimental value to you.” The corners of Barry’s mouth turn down when he hears his own words and their implication - that Len has lived a sad, lonely life with few personal attachments. He looks to Len, expression apologetic.

“It’s fine, Barry. My life and my work were the same thing until I met you.”

Len doesn’t fill his work space with knickknacks or drawings from children - the ones given to him by his patients are in file boxes in the spare bedroom - but tucked into a corner of his locker normally covered by his lab coat are a few photographs taped up. One of him and Lisa in Chubbuck Park from just after she moved back to Central City and started her residency. One of him and Mick at Saints & Sinners from their days as residents. One of him and Barry, a print out on glossy paper of a selfie they snapped inside Jitters. There’s another picture of them, framed, in his office that was taken at Lisa and Cisco’s wedding.

Len thinks Barry understands what he’s saying without saying. He wants to build a life - a real life, a full life - with Barry. Len tries to be better about saying what he’s thinking, but action will always be easier for him. Clearing out closet space, kissing Barry slow and deep, wearing an engagement ring, these are the ways Len loves best. He saves his words for the things that aren’t obvious to Barry.

“I’m going to finish unpacking the last few boxes really quick,” Barry says.

He becomes a blur of red because of the shirt he’s wearing and warm yellow lightning trails follow him from the stack of boxes to shelves and closets all over the apartment. Len is pretty sure he gets a pat on his ass when he gets in the way once or twice, but it’s so fast and Barry is nowhere near him by the time he feels it so he’s not positive that’s what happened.

In no time, the boxes are empty, broken down, and taken out to the dumpster. Maybe Len should feel cheated, but moving isn’t a hobby of his, even when he’s moving his fiance into their home. He’s much happier to have everything cleared away so he can pull Barry into his arms and kiss him and enjoy finally, officially living together.

“Hold that thought,” Barry says. “I need a shower before I can feel sexy.”

“How about a bath?”

Len has been thinking about it since Barry complained about the ugly bathroom. Maybe the colors aren’t great and maybe the towels blend in with the seafoam tile, but there’s a large soaking tub that they almost never use. Barry perks up at the suggestion, flashes Len a mischievous look, and disappears in a blur. Next thing Len knows, the water in the bathroom is running and Barry yells, “ _Shit!_ Wait, don’t come in yet.”

“I’m still in the living room,” Len says back.

“Oh, good. Stay there.”

Whatever Barry has planned, it takes a full ten minutes to arrange. Len sits on the couch and flips through _Journal of Pediatric Surgery_. His eyes flick up to Barry who looks sheepish.

“Sorry,” Barry murmurs. “I was running too fast and kept ruining the ambiance. It’ll totally be worth the wait, though. Come on.”

The lights in the bathroom are off, the warm glow of candles flickering off the tile. (Len almost laughs when he thinks about Barry trying to light candles at superspeed and snuffing out all the flames in the process. It’s so typically Barry to forget about the physics of his speed.) There’s an incredible, earthy scent in the air. Len recognizes those damn Mountain Lodge Yankee Candles Iris got Barry addicted to. Len refuses to admit he loves them because he doesn’t want to deal with the jokes about having a thing for lumberjacks. Steam curls tantalizingly off the placid surface of the bathwater.

“So, it’s a seduction,” Len says.

His voice is low, teasing, inviting. Barry steps up behind him, hands running up Len’s sides and around to his chest. Barry’s breath is a ghost against the shell of his ear. A shudder runs down Len’s spine.

“I thought we’d take it slow tonight.”

They disrobe and climb into the too warm bath, each reclining against an opposite end of the tub and legs tangling together in the middle. The cool porcelain against Len’s back tempers the heat of the water. He sighs in relief and slips lower in the water. His muscles, abused from carrying boxes upstairs, unclench and the gentle lapping of the water against the side of the tub lulls his eyes closed. The top of Barry’s foot skims the outside of his thigh.

“Wrong part of my thigh,” Len says with a laugh in his voice.

“I’m taking things slow. But if you’re going to fall asleep on me if I do, I don’t see the incentive.”

“I’m not falling asleep. I’m relaxing. I’ll be pliant for you later.”

Len cracks an eye open. Barry’s cheeks are flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He puts all his effort into making their bath torture for Len, and Len pretends not to notice despite how turned on he is. He talks about a new technique for carcinoma removals he’s read about, a recipe Martin wants to make when they come over for dinner next week, how they can redecorate the bathroom, when they’ll schedule vacation next because he did make a promise to Henry that he’d take Barry to Disney World.

Barry doesn’t accept defeat gracefully. Len loves that about him, his contradiction of being so humble and so sure he’ll win at everything, so quiet when he’s a victim and so indignant when he comes in second.

When the water cools too much for Barry’s comfort, they climb out of the bath and dry off and Len lets Barry lay him out on their bed and open him up with his tongue and press into him slow but hard with nothing between them. They haven’t used condoms since their commitment became white gold on their left hands and that still leaves Len shaking with emotion because he never thought he’d have so much love and trust to give another person, much less be worthy of a person who could give him the same in return. He wraps his legs around Barry’s waist and arms around his neck and holds him close so he can whisper loving words into Barry’s ear while they fall apart together.

Barry’s thrusts speed up and lose their rhythm and Len says, “Don’t pull out,” so he stays buried in Len when he stills, vibrates slightly, and cries out as he comes. Then he rests his temple against the warm blush on Len’s cheeks, breath ragged, and reaches between them to stroke Len until he comes over his hand. Len’s shaking with the after effects and the emotion coursing through him, and Barry quiets him with deep kisses and gentle caresses.

In these moments, when they’re alone in the dark wearing nothing but their love, Len doesn’t feel like the man he knows he is. A survivor, scarred over in too many ways, struggling to fight his way through the aftermath that still haunts him so many years later. He feels like the man he could have become if he’d been loved and cherished his whole life. He squeezes his eyes closed against the moisture he’ll never allow to escape.

“I love you so much,” Len whispers. He repeats it so many times it’s silly, but Barry holds him tighter, kisses him deeper, doesn’t say ‘I know’ or ‘I love you too’ or anything to stop Len from trying to express this shaky, consuming, incredible feeling in his chest. “You’re everything, Barry.”

Barry still doesn’t say anything, just allows his beaming smile and misty eyes to respond. He takes Len into the bathroom still illuminated by flickering candle flames that mimic Len’s heart and cleans them up and kisses Len’s shoulders while he does. Only when they’re back in bed, curled around each other and drifting off to sleep does Barry break his silence to say, “I love you” because he always makes sure it’s the first and last thing Len hears everyday.

o o o

Ray interrupts Len’s lone free hour on Wednesday afternoon. Normally Len finds Barry and coaxes him into an on call room if he has a full hour free, but now that Barry is finishing up his fourth year, he has patients of his own and a horde of interns who call on him as a teacher in his own right. He’s establishing his practice. It would be selfish of Len to interfere with that.

“Have you ever done a domino surgery?”

That’s intriguing enough to make the interruption worthwhile. Len swivels his chair so he’s facing Ray instead of his computer. Ray makes himself comfortable on the sofa where patients and their parents normally sit during consults. That should irritate Len, but it doesn’t because frustrating as Ray’s personality can be, he showed his loyalty to the peds department - even went so far as to praise how Len runs the department - when it counted most.

“A former colleague called about a six person liver transplant domino she’s organizing. There’s a patient here that’s the missing puzzle piece so she invited me to join the surgical team if we can make it happen. The thing is, it’s not my patient. It’s yours. Hannah Montgomery. My colleague has a liver for Hannah if Hannah’s father will donate to someone else in the chain.”

Hannah has A1ATD and has been Len’s patient for almost ten years. She’s seventeen now. She’s sick, tired, the fight is leaving her. Shunts and diuretics aren’t helping anymore. Nothing but a new liver can save her. Her father - a single dad - is beating himself up because he can’t be by her side day and night and keep his job and excellent medical insurance it provides. There’s no question he’ll donate part of his liver. He would donate his right arm if it would heal Hannah.

“No one is operating on Hannah except me,” Len says.

Ray accepts that with aplomb. “I would be happy to assist. Or take Hannah’s father as my patient.”

Any surgeon would have said the same. It’s a domino surgery. It’s a once-in-a-career opportunity.

“I wouldn’t cut you out, Raymond. I’ll make the call and see if the Montgomerys are in.”

Mr. Montgomery agrees immediately. Len tells him to think about it overnight and call back in the morning. He calls a little after four in the morning and agrees again. Len shakes Barry awake to tell him the news, then calls Ray and Harrison, who promises to take over all the organizational details so Len, Ray, and Barry can focus on the patients and surgery.

Word spreads quickly because Caitlin, Jax, and Kendra are waiting for Len and Barry just inside the hospital’s main entrance a few hours later. Len has barely felt the cool rush of air conditioning chasing away the sticky August heat before they’re talking over each other at increasing volume. Len holds up a hand to silence them all.

“Nothing has changed. Barry is my resident. We’ll be operating on Hannah. If you want on the case, convince Dr. Palmer to pick you. He’ll be operating on Hannah’s father.”

Caitlin’s shoulders sag. She knows better than the younger two that Ray is most likely to give preference to whoever hasn’t seen a liver transplant before because he takes teaching fairly - by his definition of fair - very seriously. Kendra and Jax don’t know that about him yet. They both bolt, taking the stairs two and three at a time instead of waiting for an elevator. Kendra throws an elbow to try and gain an advantage.

“You pitted them against each other on purpose,” Barry says.

“It’s amusing to me.”

The pieces fall into place quickly. Harrison sends out a memo giving the time and location the chartered jet will be leaving from and other details about the surgery, including the names of the entire surgical team at Starling General Hospital. It’s copied to Len, Barry, Ray, Jax, and for some reason, Hartley.

“Someone at Starling wants his help with some research,” Barry says around his toothbrush. “One of the Dr. Lances. There are three Lances, right? Anyway, I think it’s Laurel, maybe. She read Hartley’s paper on sonic technology as pain management for extreme tinnitus and requested him. She’s trying to use sonic technology for vocal cord stimulation or something like that. Why is Dr. Wells coming? He doesn’t even operate anymore.”

Len powers down his phone and lays it aside on the nightstand. Barry goes back into the bathroom to finish his nightly routine so Len speaks louder for his benefit. “This is speculation so don’t repeat it, but .... Mason Bridge tenured his resignation last week. He’s joining Doctors Without Borders and going to South America. Harrison needs another trauma surgeon. Someone who can de facto run the department until Dellson the Dinosaur retires in a few years.”

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Barry’s head pops around the jamb. “Dr. Wells is going to poach a trauma surgeon right from under another Chief’s nose?”

“Like I said, it’s speculation, but Starling General’s trauma team is world-renowned. We’d be lucky to have any of them at CCGH.”

“Yeah, I guess they must be pretty seasoned. They are the only trauma center in the developed world specializing in treating arrow wounds.”

“And we have metahumans on the loose. You can see how stealing a trauma surgeon from Starling is appealing to Harrison.”

Barry bounds into bed with a little too much speed and sends the covers fluttering. Len presses a kiss to his lips and turns off the light which is his definitive way of saying he needs the few hours of sleep between now and their flight to Starling. To his credit, Barry doesn’t complain despite needing less sleep than Len. He wraps himself around Len and says ‘goodnight’ and ‘I love you’ and his breathing evens out almost immediately. The steady rhythm of his breath and heartbeat lull Len into sleep.

o o o

Len’s phone rings just as he’s about to board the charter flight to Starling. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, just painted the horizon a hazy purple that means it’s going be sweltering later and makes Len happy he’s headed to the west coast - even if Starling is a crime-riddled dump he’d never consider visiting of his own volition - and his phone screen is ultra bright in the low light. It’s Iris. He steps away from the plane to take the call, but motions for Barry to go ahead and board.

“Iris?”

“Hey, Len! I’m so glad I caught you.”

He hears a voice in the background he identifies as Eddie and a sound like a hairdryer. Len huffs in annoyance. He answered because he thought Iris would be at the hospital, possibly with a peds patient and questions and because with Len, Barry, and Ray all flying to Starling the department is short on doctors to ask. It’s too early to be sociable.

“What can I do for you, Iris?”

“I was wondering if you could bring me back a souvenir from Starling. I’ve sort of got my heart set on something you can only find there.”

This kind of cutesy conversation might work for Iris and Barry, but it doesn’t for Len. Especially not before five am. He wants it to be over. Immediately. He’s tempted to remind her that he’s not called Captain Cold without reason, but she’s one of Barry’s best friends and it’s not a good idea to piss off trauma surgeons who could honor his instructions - contrary to hospital policy - to keep interns away from children or could not.

“And what is that, Iris?”

“Oliver Queen.”

“Come again?”

“Eddie told me there’s a possibility Dr. Wells is stealing a replacement for Mason on this trip, and I know that you have his ear. So maybe you could guide him in the direction of Oliver Queen. The man is a trauma god. We need him. I need him. I can’t be one of those sad residents without a kickass attending to mentor me. Barry has you, Caitlin has my dad, Cisco has Stein, Hartley has Dr. Rory. I need Oliver Queen.”

Len draws in a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “Okay, Iris. Sure.”

“Seriously?”

“No.”

“But -”

“Goodbye, Iris.”

Len powers down his phone and boards the plane. He’s the last one on board and there’s only one free seat - next to Ray, who waves and smiles too brightly for the early hour - because Hartley occupies the seat next to Barry.

“Rathaway, go sit with Palmer,” Len says.

To his credit, Hartley doesn’t balk, but he does give Barry a pointed look while he gathers up his things. A smile creeps into the corner of Barry’s mouth and he bobs his head, like he understands Hartley’s look perfectly and agrees. Like they can speak without words. It makes Len’s blood boil.

“What was that about?” Len asks.

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it was something.”

“Drink your coffee. You’ll feel better.”

Len reluctantly sips at the iced coffee Barry ran out for before they left their apartment. He doesn’t admit that the caffeine is an almost instant boost. There must be at least three shots of espresso in the coffee. Leave it to Barry, Len thinks, determined to be wrong-footed today, but he feels warmth in his chest because Barry knows exactly what he needs before traveling early in the morning even though they’ve never done that together.

Barry takes his hand during departure and doesn’t let go until they reach cruising altitude. He doesn’t say anything about Len’s clammy skin or try to assure him that this toy-sized death trap is safe. It’s fine because Len would have denied he’s afraid of flying anyway.

o o o

Len hates Felicity Smoak. He only needs twenty seconds to figure that out. The Central City and Starling surgical teams meet in the Chief of Surgery’s office just after dawn on the west coast, and instead of keeping some modicum of professionalism, Felicity rushes across the room and throws herself into Barry’s arms and gushes about how happy she is to see him again in a too shrill voice. Len glares at her blonde head. So does one of the Starling surgeons - a tall, muscular man with dark blond hair.

Ray has much more appropriate reunions with his former colleagues.

“For those of us not already acquainted,” Dr. Wells says, “allow me to introduce Dr. Leonard Snart, chief of pediatric surgery, and three of our residents, Dr. Barry Allen, specializing in peds, Dr. Hartley Rathaway, specializing in otolaryngology, and Dr. Jefferson Jackson. Of course, you all know Ray.”

The Starling Chief of Surgery is called Quentin Lance and he has the hardboiled look of a gumshoe rather than a surgeon, but he’s a highly respected cardiothoracic surgeon with a procedure to his name. The less invasive Lance Method has saved several of Len’s patients from long, painful recoveries. He introduces his surgical team.

The chief of general surgery is called Dr. Malcolm Merlyn - seriously, that’s his name - and he doesn’t seem pleased someone other than himself is taking point on this surgery. The man glaring at Felicity’s head is Dr. Oliver Queen, the trauma god Iris wants. Dr. John Diggle is a surgical oncologist lending a hand with the domino surgery. He looks more pleasant than Queen, but in a stolid way. Len assumes Dr. Lyla Diggle, a general surgeon specializing in transplants, is his wife. Rivaling Queen for intensity is Dr. Nyssa Raatko who Lance introduces as a cardiothoracic surgeon - also lending a hand - and his finest pupil ever. The Central City residents give her another look. No one mentored by their Chief should be underestimated. Even Harrison looks calculating, and CCGH doesn’t even need another cardio surgeon.

“And these are my daughters,” Lance says, “Dr. Laurel Lance is our very best surgical ENT. She just made attending this year. And this is the superstar of the hour, Dr. Sara Lance. She’s arranged this whole domino surgery on top of her normal surgical schedule and being Chief Resident.”

Laurel beams proudly at her sister, not at all bothered by her sister getting the spotlight which means favoritism must be shared evenly based on merit in their family. Sara gives her father a quelling look and Len instantly decides he likes her.

The surgical team is massive for an undertaking this big and there are a dozen more introductions, including the Starling residents on this case - Felicity, Dr. Roy Harper, and Dr. Thea Queen. Thea’s eyes flick to Oliver, who must be her brother, when Chief Lance introduces her, as if she needs his reassurance more than her Chief’s that she belongs on this case. He gives her a proud smile. Len decides he likes them too.

“When are your patients scheduled to arrive?” Sara asks, once the introductions are finally over. She directs the question to Len, which pleases him, instead of Harrison.

“Their flight lands at 5pm,” Len says. “We offered them a medical transport, but Hannah insisted she’s not that sick. She is, but she’s stubborn.”

“Good for her,” Sara says. She doesn’t say Hannah will need that strength to come through the transplant surgery. They all know that without it being said. “I’ll page you when we’re ready to admit her and her father. In the meantime, would you all like to see our OR set up?”

They look like they’re on a field trip, a herd of doctors taking a tour of Starling General Hospital. Laurel and Hartley break off from the group on the second floor and head to the ENT lab where Laurel has been working on her sonic technology.

Felicity sighs wistfully. “Oh, to spend my days playing with sonic toys. But Dr. Lance says I won’t pass my boards if all I do is design medical equipment.”

“You don’t like operating anymore?” Barry asks.

“No, I do. I do. It’s still my favorite thing in the world, but Laurel is on the edge of something revolutionary and I really wanted to be there with her. Instead, Hartley Rathaway will co-author all of the papers and win the awards.”

“You don’t have to be on this case, Felicity,” Sara says. Her voice is even, but sharp as a knife.

Felicity’s regret is pronounced, exaggerated, painful. It makes Len roll his eyes and grind his teeth. It takes everything Len has not to ask Barry what the hell he ever saw in this irritating, thoughtless woman.

“No, no, no. No, oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that what you’re doing isn’t important. It is. It absolutely is. It’s important and impressive and I’m so sorry. I do want to be on this case. I just also want to work in Laurel’s lab. But I’m here. Present. Completely present and invested in this surgery.”

Oliver touches Felicity’s shoulder and she stops talking abruptly, but continues to look apologetic for longer than necessary. Barry looks back and forth between Felicity and Oliver, makes a few hand gestures, gives a few significant looks. Felicity completely misses the question he’s trying to ask silently. Len feels good about that and what she does notice.

“Barry Allen, is that a ring on your finger!?”

Barry’s smile is as bright as the sun and a blush creeps onto his cheeks. He nods shyly and glances over at Len with hooded eyes. “Yeah. We’re engaged.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“December. Some December. We haven’t decided which one.”

Len isn’t interested in the excited babble coming out of Felicity’s mouth on the elevator ride down to the surgical wing. When he tunes her out, he finds Nyssa looking at him with intent.

“Congratulations, Dr. Snart,” she says. Her accent is crisp and pleasant. “I’m relieved I don’t have to worry any longer about the way you were staring at my beloved.”

“Nyssa,” Sara says gently, longsufferingly.

Len cocks an eyebrow. “I wasn’t -” The elevator doors open and she exits with swagger in the middle of his protest. Len follows her progress with narrowed eyes. “And they say I’m cold,” he says.

“I’m sorry about that,” Sara says. “Nyssa sees what she wants to see.”

“And she wants to see complete strangers ogling you?”

“She wants to see reasons to fight with the world. It’s who she is. It’s what makes her a great surgeon. There’s no length she won’t go to save someone she cares about, whether that’s her patients or her wife.”

Their conversation has to end when they reach the surgical wing. Len needs to inspect the OR and get his bearings so he’s prepared when Hannah is open on the table in front of him, check the equipment he’ll be using so it feels like second nature to hold the brand of scalpel and wear the brand of surgical mask at this hospital. Barry breaks off his conversation with Felicity too and steps up to the operating table opposite Len, ready to do the same thing.

“We have a day to practice,” Len says.

Barry understands that means they don’t have time for distractions. But it’s easier to deny distractions in theory. Especially when the distraction is as loud and blond as Felicity Smoak.

o o o

The Central City surgical team leaves the hospital in the middle of the day to check into their rooms at the hotel across the street. They’ll likely be at the hospital until late in the evening after the Montgomerys arrive and they’re all eager to shower off their travel, nap for an hour, and grab dinner before starting what might turn into an all-nighter.

“So you met Felicity,” Barry says.

Len pauses where he’s placing shirts into drawers. He always unpacks at hotels, unlike Barry, apparently, who finds the luggage rack and plops his suitcase on it.

“Yes,” Len replies.

“And are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

He can hear Barry’s sigh from across the room and the padding of his footsteps as he approaches Len. He wraps his arms around Len’s waist and kisses the back of his neck. Shivers race up Len’s spine.

“Because you’re a jealous lover. I’m okay with that because you’re not controlling about it. But I know you don’t like that I’m friends with Hartley again and I only slept with him once. I can’t imagine how much you’ll hate me spending time with Felicity. Especially after how I handled our first fight. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Len turns around in the circle of Barry’s arms. He drapes himself across the dresser, thighs bracketing Barry’s knees. Barry moves his arms to Len’s neck, Len caresses his hips as he moves in closer.

“I don’t like her,” Len says. “She’s careless with her words and she’s selfish with her affection.” The corners of Barry’s eyes tighten, not quite a wince but almost. He can’t refute the truth. “And she broke your heart. I don’t like anybody who hurts you. I think you should stay away from the little minx before she ensnares you and hurts you all over again.”

“Len,” Barry says, almost a laugh, almost a scolding.

“And while you’re at it, keep away from Rathaway too. He’s a shifty one. I can see it in his eyes. He’ll pounce on you the moment he senses weakness.”

Barry does laugh this time. “Amazing. You have Felicity figured out in less than a day, but you don’t get Hartley at all after four years of working with him. You should get to know him. You’d really like him. Then I’d be the jealous one.”

“So you admit Felicity is insensitive and selfish?”

“I admit,” Barry starts strong, but continues more slowly to choose his words wisely, “that Felicity has flaws like everyone. But she’s my friend in spite of them. It wasn’t easy to stay friends after the way we ended things. I had to fight for that, Len.”

Len doesn’t understand that. He’s never wanted to stay friends with his exes. No one has been worth the effort. But he appreciates it anyway. That determination to not abandon his loved ones. He sees his and Barry’s past with clearer vision now. The important thing isn’t that Barry ran away from him for two weeks; it’s that he came back. He reacted, then he fought his nature and reacted better.

“I know,” Len says quietly, softly. “I’m glad you did.”

Barry doesn’t take that at face value because he understands the way Len speaks in layers of silent thoughts. “I’ll talk to her about the spontaneous hugging thing.”

Len breaths a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Barry presses a kiss to Len’s forehead and tugs him toward the bed. “Come on. Take a nap with me before dinnertime.”

Len has no objection to crawling into bed and catching up on the sleep an early morning flight deprived him of while Barry is wrapped around him like a warm comfort.

o o o

Dinner is comedy gold. Unbeknownst to Len, Barry accepted an invitation to a dinner Ray has arranged for anyone on the surgical team free at 6pm. Technically, Barry is not free at 6pm because the Montgomerys landed at 5pm but Len is willing to allow Jax to stay with them while they’re admitted instead because he’s not going to a dinner party alone. Harrison and Quentin are both present, as are Ray, Laurel, Oliver, and Hartley.

“I’m curious about something, Harrison,” Quentin says, and his tone makes it obvious it’s going to be a dig. “How many of your surgeons are women? Because I can’t help but notice your surgical team is pretty testosterone-heavy.”

Harrison looks down at his plate, schools his expression. “Medicine is a field dominated by men, yes, and so your underlying argument is correct. We should do everything within our power to diversify our residency programs, and especially who we promote to attending.”

“Uh huh. You didn’t answer the question, but okay.”

Harrison rises to the bait, which he should have known better than to do. There is a good proportion of women in the residency program, but only a handful of attendings and one chief are women. To be fair to Harrison, his predecessor made most of those appointments, but he can’t win this argument. He should redirect, talk about other minorities in leadership positions instead.

“We have plenty of women surgeons in Central City. Dr. Anna Loring-Palmer,” Harrison says, “is chief of obstetric and gynecologic surgery.”

“A woman OB/GYN chief. Groundbreaking,” Lance quips.

Len is on Harrison’s side here. He really is. But that was funny. Barry nudges Len hard in the ribs. Apparently, his amusement is showing. Barry elbows Hartley, who is sitting on his other side, too.

“I hope you’re not implying your hospital is without flaws, Quentin,” Harrison says.

There’s a sharp vein to his voice, the one he only uses when he discusses program rankings and his career-long desire to see CCGH in the top spot.

“Just improving my sales pitch for the next time I need to recruit a world class surgeon. ‘Come to Starling General where there are no glass ceilings’.”

If Harrison wasn’t planning on stealing a trauma surgeon before, he sure as hell is now after being goaded like this. This is so much better than a quiet dinner in the hotel restaurant.

“Your location being in Starling might prove to be something of a detriment, Quentin.”

“Oh, yeah? Missouri is better than California, huh?”

“‘Come to Central City General Hospital where you won’t get shot full of arrows’,” Harrison fires back.

Hartley starts to laugh, and his following cough does not entirely cover it up. Len is seconds away from cracking a smile himself. Maybe Barry has a point. If Len could get past the fact that Hartley slept with Barry then spent years treating him like shit, they might get along just fine.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” Oliver says quickly. He waves over their server and looks uncomfortable enough doing it that Len assumes he’s not one of those douchey one percenters who thinks the world is theirs to command.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ray says. His cheerful voice sounds strained, unsure. “The pastry chef here is outstanding. I highly recommend the coconut mousse.”

“My favorite is the blood orange sugar cakes,” Laurel says.

The attendings’ small talk makes the rivalry between Chiefs even funnier. Len sees things like this all the time when his teenage patients are embarrassed by their parents who are squabbling or aggressive or asking too many questions and try to compensate by being the most mature person in the room. Len drains his wine glass. Barry gives him a stern look when he pours himself another.

“You could try to help smooth things over,” Barry mutters. Len’s grin is positively wicked. “Nevermind. Seriously, nevermind.”

“You know, I’ve been wondering something since we met the rest of the surgical team yesterday,” Len drawls. He leans back in his chair, gives the impression that he’s starting an open, friendly debate, then plunges in the knife. “Do you think fraternization and nepotism is endemic to all hospitals? Or just our two?”

If Harrison could come across the table and slap Len, he would, that much is clear from his glare. Quentin looks like he bit into a sour grape. Laurel, Oliver, and Ray are uncomfortable with those words, for good reason - Laurel being the daughter of her Chief, Oliver being the son of wealthy donors, and Ray’s job being a stipulation of Anna accepting the OB chief position. They’re all excellent surgeons, but there’s a shadow of doubt always hanging over them because of their personal relationships. Like Lisa. Like Barry, who is very clearly pissed off.

“Oh, I think it’s just our two,” Hartley says. Len turns to him sharply, calculating the odds of finding an ally in his jest or of Hartley’s notoriously sharp wit turning against Len. “The doctors at Keystone Memorial don’t all date each other. But they’re in Kansas, which is better than Missouri and being riddled with arrows.”

His humor is bone dry. It’s his only saving grace after making fun of two surgical chiefs to their faces. Len drains his wine glass again.

“Professional dinners aren’t so bad,” he remarks to Barry.

It earns him a glare in return.

o o o

The surgical team meets the patients the following day in a large skills lab rearranged into a transplant ward for this surgery. The residents - minus Sara who is managing the whole surgery - will do examinations and run more tests, and if all patients are healthy enough and all donors still consenting, surgery will happen tomorrow.

The patients enjoy meeting each other, finding out more about the person donating or receiving their liver. Sara talks them through the surgery as a group, to make sure they all hear the same details and misinformation doesn’t spread like wildfire. She commands their attention despite being the smallest surgeon in the room and having a baby face. She’s probably had to practice exerting authority a lot.

“Hannah will have to take anti-rejection drugs, right?” Scott Montgomery asks Len. “Will that interfere with her going away to college?”

“Dad,” Hannah moans because teenagers all think their parents are embarrassing by virtue of being parents and should never speak.

“We’ll have to assess her health after the surgery,” Len says, cautious as always when it comes to children, even nearly grown ones. “But if everything goes as planned and she sticks to her treatment protocol, there’s no reason Hannah can’t live a normal life.”

“You want her to go away to college?” Michael Chen is a fifty-year-old car salesman with nonalcoholic fatty liver disease. He’s never left National City before boarding a flight to Starling to get his new liver. It’s the first thing he’s told everyone. “Most parents want their children to stay close to home.”

“Most parents haven’t watched their children grow up in hospital beds,” Scott replies. “I want her to have a life, wherever she decides that should be.”

Michael's daughter, who can’t be more than twenty-three and is donating part of her liver so her father can receive one from someone else, gives her father a pointed look. This is all a little too personal and poignant for Len. He’s glad someone else asks their surgeon - Oliver, in this case - a question about recovery time.

One-by-one, patients are wheeled out of the skills lab-cum-transplant ward by residents for the battery of tests UNOS requires before transplant surgeries. After the images are taken and blood samples drawn, they’ll be taken to rooms where they’ll stay until surgery. If any test results come back troublesome, better to discuss them - and what they mean for the domino surgery - in private rather than in a crowded room, which can only lead to panic.

“Barry and Jax will take you to your room,” Ray says to the Montgomerys. “We have some final blood work to do for you, Scott. Hannah, I’m sorry but we’ll have to take blood from you a few more times and you’ll have a trip to radiology today.”

“No problem, Dr. Palmer,” Hannah says. “I’ve put up with needles and cold exam tables for ten years. I can make it another twenty-four hours as long as I get a liver at the end of it.”

That’s the trouble with domino surgeries. One wrong twitch of the finger could topple everything.

o o o

There isn’t a lot for the attendings to do while they wait for the residents to run labs and the results to come back. Len imagines this is what being in private practice feels like - having downtime, never getting a page for a trauma. He hates it. There’s too much time to plan, consider, think, dwell. He can feel himself descending into a cold, dark place that’s compelling because it’s cerebral and he’s always been fascinated with thought and science and precision, but it’s a void - comfortless, emotionless - and he’s doesn’t like living there anymore.

“I know that look.” The voice that interrupts belongs to Sara. He’s known her for a day, but he would recognize her voice anywhere. The Lances have a particular way of speaking. She sets her lunch down at the table he’s occupying in the cafeteria. “Nyssa gets that look all the time.”

“What look is that?”

“I call it her ‘plotting fifty ways to kill someone and get away with it’ look, but it could be ‘plotting world domination’ too. Either way, I know that look. I’m a trauma surgeon. I’m an expert in cleaning up after looks like that.”

A domino transplant surgery is an interesting choice for a trauma surgeon. It requires more planning and long-term thinking than one usually finds in an ER. It makes the feat even more of an accomplishment. If the surgery happens, Sara Lance will get to write her ticket. She won’t need a fellowship. She’ll be an attending by this time next year.

“If anyone could plot world domination, I thought it would be you. A trauma resident organizing a domino surgery. That’s impressive.”

Sara shrugs. “It’s what I needed to do to save my patient. I understand why UNOS won’t give Violette a liver. She made some bad choices, she gave into her demons, but I don’t think one disease should preclude another from being cured. I didn’t go looking for a domino surgery until UNOS told me it was my only choice.”

Len draws in a sharp breath. This information could topple their dominos. It’s a dangerous foundation for Sara to work from because if it does fall apart, the blame will be placed squarely on her shoulders. A resident’s reputation can’t survive that kind of fallout.

“Do the other patients know Violette is an alcoholic?”

“It’s none of their business. She’s been sober for ten months. Two more and she would be a candidate for a transplant from UNOS, but she doesn’t have two months left and there’s no guarantee there would be a liver available for her right away.”

There’s a certain gray morality to medicine even though the Physician’s Oath pretends there’s not. All people deserve treatment regardless of who they are or what they’ve done. But given the choice of donating a liver to a recovering alcoholic or a patient with hemochromatosis, most people wouldn’t have to think too hard. But doctors do. Doctors have to be aware of and fight against their own biases. Doctors have to recognize that both patients have a disease, both patients waited too long to get help, both patients deserve treatment so they can live. That Sara would go to these lengths to save a patient most people - most doctors, even - would have written off is all Len needs to know about Sara Lance.

Iris wants a trauma god, and she thinks that’s Oliver Queen because she hasn’t heard of Sara Lance yet.

“Have you missed removing arrows from various body parts while you’ve been arranging this surgery? I imagine that would get a little boring after awhile. Same weapon, different limb. Nothing at all like what our trauma team deals with when a meta goes on a rampage.”

“So metahumans are real.” She says it like Len has confirmed the sky turns green before a tornado, like she’s always understood the science, but couldn’t bring herself to believe it until just now. “How do you know how to treat them?”

Len shrugs. “Mostly we don’t. STAR Labs tends to clean up after and contain metahumans. We assume they have doctors.”

“You _assume_ they have doctors.” Sara shakes her head. “And they say Starling is dark. Maybe it’s Central City who needs a vigilante.”

“Only someone from Starling would say that. Vigilantes attract more problems than they solve. If we had a vigilante running around the streets of Central City, someone would want to be his nemesis and imagine how many more mass casualties we’d have then.”

Sara is smiling now, leaning forward, ready to fight for her opinion. “Or maybe the vigilante could be a symbol of hope.”

“Because that’s exactly what happened in Starling and Gotham.”

“You’re a surgeon, Leonard. You know perfectly well that each case is unique and unpredictable. Sometimes you need staples, sometimes stitches, sometimes sutures, sometimes skin glue.”

Len leans back in his chair, considering how to counteract such a succinct and flawless point. Sara flashes him a bigger smile, like she knows it’s a victory before he concedes, finishes her sandwich and stands up.

“Labs should be back by now. Want to go see if we still have a domino surgery tomorrow?”

“I’ll grace you with my presence if you’ll consider the merits of joining us at CCGH. We have an attending position opening up, you’re almost finished with residency. It’s serendipitous.”

Sara cocks her head to the side. “You realize that’s me doing two favors for you. One, letting you see labs before the rest of the surgical team. Two, saving your ER from metahuman chaos. And yet you ask that like you’re doing me a favor?”

“I will be when I put in a good word with Harrison and the board.”

Sara’s face shifts, loses the hardened quality of a detached professional for just a moment, and suddenly she looks like her sister. “You barely know me. You haven’t seen me operate.”

“Don’t need to.” She’s a resident whose attendings defer to her. Watching her operate a handful of times couldn’t speak as loudly as that. “But if you kill your patient tomorrow, the offer is rescinded. Fair?”

She almost laughs, but not quite. “Fair.”

Len stands from the chair he’s been sitting in for too long and follows Sara through the labyrinthine hallways. He feels a rush of blood through his veins, the oncoming adrenaline at the edge of action. This is where he belongs. Even if entropy is not his natural state, he’s best when he’s in the thick of the fight to save lives.

o o o

The surgical team trickles in slowly after Sara asks a nurse to page everyone. The Starling doctors have surgeries and patients to juggle on top of the domino surgery, but predictably, the attendings arrive before their residents. Barry, looking a little windswept, is the first of the residents to arrive. Len asks the question - is it wise to use your superspeed here? - with a raised eyebrow and Barry answers with a shrug.

“I wish I knew what you two are talking about sometimes,” Ray says.

“It’s nothing important,” Barry says.

Thea and Jax enter together and immediately take seats on a gurney pushed against the wall where Oliver has been perched and scrolling through a patient file on his tablet for at least ten minutes.

“So,” Thea says, drawing out the word. She glances between Barry and Len, and Len braces himself for the invasion of privacy bound to follow. “How long have you been together?”

“Two years,” Barry answers.

“Wow. That’s great. And now you’re getting married. Who asked who?”

“Uh,” Barry glances over at Len for help. Technically, neither of them asked the traditional question, but Barry had been the one to suggest engagement rings. “I asked Len? After he let me know that he wanted me to ask?” It’s as accurate as they’ll ever be able to describe it to anyone else.

“So, Leonard. You’re an attending,” Thea says. There’s a calculating quality to her voice that he doesn’t like. “And Barry won’t be an attending for another ... what, probably three years? That doesn’t bother you?”

“Thea.” Oliver’s voice is a warning that she ignores.

“Of course it doesn’t. That’s obvious. It’s not stopping you from living your lives or declaring your love for the person who makes who feel whole. Good for you.”

“I apologize for my sister,” Oliver says. “Thea, can I talk to you outside?”

“Oliver won’t agree to date Felicity until she’s at least a fellow,” Barry says by way of an explanation. “Thea thinks that’s stupid.”

“Yeah, I picked up on that,” Len answers.

“It’s not stupid, but it is exhausting.”

Malcolm looks like he hasn’t shaved in a couple days, which means he probably hasn’t slept. He’s wearing a scrub cap and a surgical gown, so either he’s just come from surgery or he’s heading back into the OR after Sara’s meeting. That might be why he sounds so annoyed or that might just be Malcolm Merlyn. Len is leaning toward believing the latter because he starts talking again, very loudly, when Oliver and Thea enter the room again with Felicity and Roy trailing behind them.

“There are so many inappropriate relationships at this hospital I don’t see how an attending and resident dating would complicate things any more. Then we could stop living in the middle of their melodrama. Four years is long enough to deal with their pining.”

“Dad,” Thea scolds.

 _Dad?_ Thea Queen is Malcolm Merlyn’s daughter and Oliver Queen’s sister? This hospital has even more entangled relationships than Central City. But right now Len is more worried about the stricken look on Barry’s face and the panic on Felicity’s. It only takes a second and a grasp of basic mathematics to piece it together. Barry and Felicity broke up three years ago, supposedly because of distance.

Barry turns his gaze away from Felicity. His eyes land on a spot near Len’s breast pocket and don’t move. He leans into Len slightly, but Len doesn’t make any obvious move to comfort him, not when Barry is this hurt and vulnerable. Instead, he grazes Barry’s arm with his forefinger. Len wants to say, ‘I’ll never make you feel this way,’ but he can’t because he has already shattered Barry’s trust in him once, and ‘I’ll never make you feel this way again’ isn’t as powerful a promise.

Len keeps Felicity in the corner of his eye as he watches Barry. She makes a few aborted attempts to find words, but eventually takes a seat next to Thea who looks guilty for bringing up this topic of conversation in the first place. It’s not her fault or Malcolm’s fault. This is squarely on Felicity’s shoulders. It takes everything Len has not to lash out at her in front of her attendings, to wound her, to make her feel small. But Barry wouldn’t appreciate that.

“I think everyone is here now,” Sara says.

She either doesn’t know or care about the revelations coming to light on the other side of the room. She has information about the patients and their lab results to share. She has a surgery to see to its finish because no one toppled a domino today. There are details each pair of surgeons need to know - one patient’s kidney function is low, another used up their last dialysis access point today - but nothing to stop the surgery.

“I’ll see you all back here tomorrow morning,” Sara says. “We’re tying up almost all of our ORs so let’s all be here at 3am sharp so we can be in surgery by 4 and out before routine procedures start with the day shift.”

It’s still fairly early in the day. There might even be time to do some sightseeing in Starling if Len didn’t want to check on the Montgomerys once more and get a good night’s sleep in a real bed. And if Barry didn’t look like he needs to find a quiet place to fall apart.

“Come on,” Len says, taking Barry’s hand. “I found the on call room on this floor today.”

They’re out in the safety of the hallway when Felicity bursts out of the transplant ward and races down the hallway after them. Len can feel the energy coursing under the skin of Barry’s hand. He’s ready to bolt, but he can’t in front of Felicity if he doesn’t want her to know about his superspeed.

“Barry, please let me explain. It’s not what Malcolm made it sound like.”

Barry is incapable of walking away from the pleading in her voice. He’s not always the best listener, but he is never without heart. Felicity breathes a sigh of relief that Barry is facing her. She has the decency not to ask for privacy after Barry received none to deal with his reaction.

“Barry, I never cheated on you. You know me. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“But you fell in love with Oliver.”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “Yes, I did. And that’s how I knew it couldn’t work out between us. However perfect for each other we seemed, if we were meant to be together, I wouldn’t have been able to fall in love with anyone else. But I did. So it was only right to let you go so you could fall in love with the person you were meant to be with. And look,” she gestures at Len, “you did.”

Barry spins around, runs his hands through his hair. It’s what he does when he doesn’t want to hear what someone else is saying.

“I’m sorry I never told you the whole story, Barry. I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.”

“You did more than not tell me the whole story. You lied for three years. You never mentioned Oliver once until I was here and could see how you feel about each other with my own eyes. We’re friends, Felicity. We’re supposed to talk to each other.”

Felicity nods. “You’re right. And I am sorry, Barry. But while you’ve been able to move on and build what sounds like a pretty incredible life, I’m stuck. I’m in the same place I was three years ago. I’m in love with someone who doesn’t want to be with me because I might accept a fellowship across the country and he can’t leave Starling. It’s not a fun thing to talk about. I’d much rather hear about all the exciting and crazy things happening in Central City.”

Barry hedges for a few minutes, but eventually nods. “Okay. I guess I get that. It’s not fair to me at all, but I get it.”

“What do you mean?” Felicity asks.

“We’re never going to be able to talk again without me wondering what you’re not telling me. That’s not the way friendship is supposed to work.”

“Maybe it is,” Felicity says. “When your friend lives six hundred miles away and misses huge chunks of your life, maybe that’s the only way it can work. It wasn’t a lie that distance came between us.”

Len listens with respectful silence and his eyes fixed on Barry. He sees the moment Barry accepts the truth in what she’s saying with a sigh and sagging shoulders. He can feel the difference in Barry when they walk away a few minutes later. There’s no energy under his skin, only deep sadness radiating off him. As far and fast as he might run, Barry never truly let’s go of anyone. This is a foreign concept to him, someone he loved becoming an acquaintance he catches up with every once in awhile. It must feel like such a betrayal to him.

Len pushes open the door to the on call room and follows Barry inside. They take seats on the edge of the neatly made bed.

“I’m okay, Len. I’ll be fine. You don’t have to do this.”

“You had a fight with a friend and you’re upset. Of course I’m going to do this.”

“That sounds surprisingly free of jealousy.”

“It helps that she admitted I’m your soulmate.” Barry laughs softly. “So I’ll focus my jealousy on Rathaway now until he admits the same.”

Barry laughs again. “I’ll tell him to get right on that so you can breathe easy.”

“A man with a hot, young fiance can never breathe easy.”

“Not even if his fiance constantly reminds him how much he’s loved?”

“Hmm. That might help. How does the hot, young fiance do that?”

“All kinds of ways.” Barry’s voice is low and breathy and makes Len’s heart skip a beat. Barry shifts against Len, slides his arms around Len’s neck, straddles Len’s lap, presses their mouths together and parts Len’s lips with his tongue.

“Are you sure this is what you want right now?” Len asks.

Barry trembles in his arms, spreads his knees, presses his hardening length against Len. “Make me a promise.”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll never fall in love with someone else and leave me.”

“Never.”

Maybe a year ago this would have been a bad idea, but Len doesn’t feel the same reservation he might have before. He belongs to Barry, body and soul, and it’s Barry’s right to use Len’s body and soul to heal his own. So Len draws Barry to him and presses a promise into the skin of his jaw, neck, torso, cock with lips, fingertips, and tongue. A promise that Barry is his one and only, forever and always.

o o o

Len is almost out of the hospital, and at a decent hour too, when he gets a 911 text from Hartley. Len isn’t surprised about the stat page, but he is surprised it’s from Hartley who doesn’t have any interaction with Hannah, who is Len’s only patient in the hospital. The only other possibility is that Barry has been hurt. He hasn’t seen Barry since they parted ways at the on call room - Len to check on Hannah, Barry to get some food after burning off so many calories in bed - a couple hours ago. It doesn’t seem likely Barry could be hurt, not with his superior reflexes, but it’s possible. Len answers the emergency summons to OR 8 exactly as he’s supposed to - at a run. He skips scrubbing in, not knowing why he’s been paged, but grabs a mask to hold over his face.

The scene in the OR would be comical if it didn’t involve an unconscious, injured child lying on a bed with a tube down her throat. She can’t be older than three. There’s a nasty laceration above her right eyebrow and three of her fingers are bent at wrong angles, but it’s the snapped femur sticking through her thigh that sobers Len. That and Hartley who is standing front of the operating table, body blocking the lead surgeon. The rest of the surgical team stands back too, looking unsure.

“What’s going on?” Len demands.

“Get your resident under control!” Len doesn’t recognize the outraged doctor, but he can only assume it’s a peds attending from SGH. “We need to operate on this girl now.”

“Hartley, what the hell are you doing?” Len demands again, more specifically this time.

“Laurel and I were leaving for dinner when paramedics brought in this girl. I heard this _doctor_ ” - he spits the word at the attending - “say that femur fractures never heal well in children and they might have to take the leg. Which they don’t. I know they don’t because you taught Barry how to set femur fractures in children.”

“So you took it upon yourself to - what? - follow them into the OR and stop the surgery?”

Hartley nods. “Just until you could give a second opinion. Or Laurel can find Chief Lance.”

Len makes an appraising sound. “You might have made a decent peds surgeon.”

“Dr. Snart,” the peds attending says, all false rationality now, “Chief Lance will tell you that I’ve been an attending here for almost twenty years and I know what I’m doing. This girl has severe internal injuries from a hit-and-run. She coded twice in the ambulance on the way here. I will do everything I can for her, but the leg is not my biggest concern. Now, please, tell your resident to back off.”

Len eyes the other attending for a long moment, then says to Hartley, “Three more minutes. Page Ray and Barry.”

Len doesn’t know if Hartley can hold off the other attending for the length of time it will take to scrub in, but it’s not likely he could - or would even try - do much harm to the girl, such as amputating her leg, in three minutes. The scrub room is sound proof, so Len can’t hear the abuse the attending is flinging at Hartley, but he can see it all in pantomime.

“What’s going on?” Barry asks. He couldn’t have been paged more than twenty seconds ago. “That’s not Hannah. Why is Hartley paging us to a random peds surgery?”

Len turns off the water with his elbow and grabs a sterilized towel. He can’t count on the scrub nurses to help him prep. “We’re stealing a patient.”

Barry balks. “From another surgeon’s OR at a hospital where we don’t work?”

“If it makes you feel better, he’s a hack who doesn’t know how to set a compound femur fracture.” Barry pulls a face, like he already detests the surgeon he’s never met. “Hurry up and scrub. I haven’t had a good patient heist since my residency. It’s an art. You’ll want to see it.”

The other attending rounds on Len as he’s pulling on gloves. “You can’t steal my patient. You only have privileges for one operation and this isn’t it.”

Len ignores the surgeon and addresses the rest of the surgical team - nurses and anesthesiologist specifically. “Stay where you are. You’ll be assisting me with this operation. We’re going to save this patient, and that includes all of her limbs. If you don’t like this plan, please speak up now. It would be my pleasure to give your names to your Chief so he can fire your sorry asses.”

No one moves a muscle. Len steps around the sputtering attending and up to the table. Barry joins him across the table in the first assist position. He asks for a ten blade and makes the first incision. How he knows where to cut or what injuries the patient has is a mystery to Len - that’s one reason to keep the surgical team in place, so they can tell him - but Barry is cutting with confidence.

“I had a look at the chart after scrubbing,” Barry whispers.

At superspeed. Right. Of course.

The other attending covers up Barry’s whisper by yelling some more. Len likes a quiet OR, but he’ll welcome the noise just this once.

“This is outrageous! I’ve never been treated with such disrespect in my life!”

“Neither has your patient,” Len fires back. “Dr. Rathaway, please assist Dr. Allen until Dr. Palmer arrives. I’m going to set the leg. Were we able to find out the patient’s favorite color?”

An older scrub nurse answers. There’s a crinkle around her eyes that might be a smile. “She was unconscious, but we cut a purple jacket off her.”

“Excellent. Let’s prepare the purple casting plaster.”

“Unbelievable!” The other attending shouts. “I’m going to find the Chief. You’ll answer for this, Snart!”

“I’ll be happy to explain why my patient still has both of her legs when Chief Lance arrives.”

“I told you I wasn’t going to -” The attending decides against arguing with Len, thankfully, and storms out of the OR.

“Finally. Some peace and quiet.” He glances up from the broken leg and addresses the surgical team. “Good evening. I’m Dr. Leonard Snart from Central City General Hospital. Pleasure to have you all in my OR tonight.”

“Rosie Garcia,” the older scrub nurse says. “I’ve been a peds nurse here for twenty-seven years.”

“I’m not surprised you were the one who paid attention to the colors the patient was wearing. Do you know her name?”

“Yes, doctor.” Rosie sounds pleased, but not enamored. She’s worked with doctors too long to not see through his game. “Her name is Hailee Flynn.”

They’re still doing introductions when Ray and Sara enter the OR fully scrubbed. Since they don’t ask any questions, Len assumes they’re aware of the situation. The other attending seems like the type who would run through the halls screaming about the injustice of not being allowed to maim a child.

“We heard you could use a couple extra sets of hands,” Sara says. There’s a laugh in her voice. “And when I say ‘we’ I mean the entire hospital, but my dad only sent us.”

With five surgeons, they finish the surgery in a fraction of the time. Sara helps set the femur and casts one leg while Len stitches up the wound, then they cast the other leg and connect them to make sure Hailee’s broken leg stays completely still. It’s going to be hell on the parents and nurses to keep a three year old in bed for six weeks, but she’ll heal perfectly this way. Barry, Ray, and Hartley have their work cut out for them finding all the internal bleeders, but eventually Ray declares them finished and since her blood pressure stays up after removing clamps, they probably did catch them all.

“That was one hell of a stunt,” Sara says, while they’re scrubbing out.

“It wasn’t a stunt. It was a choice to save a patient from an incompetent doctor.”

Sara shakes her head in disbelief. “This is how he runs things in Central City?”

“Pretty much,” Ray answers cheerfully, at the same time Barry says, “Yup.”

“I might like it there more than I thought,” Sara replies. She finishes drying her arms and throws the towel in the bin. “Chief Lance and Chief Wells would like to speak with you now, Leonard.”

“You two get out of here,” Len says to Barry and Hartley. They start to protest, but Len insists. “There’s not a lot they can do to me except yell, but you’re both residents. So go. Now.”

“I’ll be waiting in our room,” Barry says, and gives Len a quick goodbye kiss.

Len doesn’t remember how to get to the Chief’s office and Sara left ahead of him so he agrees to following Ray through the identical corridors and stairwells.

“I seriously can’t believe you did that,” Ray says. He’s smiling and shaking his head. “I heard you had a reputation for it in your residency, but most attendings don’t steal surgeries.”

“Most attendings are too concerned with their reputation.”

Ray scoffs. “And you’re not worried about your reputation?”

“Not in the same way.”

“And that makes you superior?”

“Precisely.”

Len doesn’t care about the prestige. He doesn’t waste his time with clinical trials that will leave half his patients with placebos or chasing grants for flashy, one-time initiatives. He has plenty of patients right in front of him. He would spend his whole week doing appendectomies and setting broken arms if it meant a one hundred percent success rate. It’s the successes that bring the bigger fish into his office - supposedly inoperable tumors, life-altering reconstructions, mysterious symptoms that defy a diagnosis - that have built his reputation as the best pediatric surgeon in the Midwest. He doesn’t have to demand respect. He’s earned it by caring about every patient in his OR. It’s why he’s not afraid to steal a patient when he deems it necessary. Because this wasn’t about prestige. It was about saving a child. And that will never be wrong in anyone’s eyes. Even two Chiefs who yell at him about it. They can’t say it. Can’t even hint at that. They have to slap his wrist, threaten him. But they’re grateful he did it. They would be monsters to have any other opinion about it.

o o o

Len almost expects to find a gaggle of residents in their hotel room hearing about the surgery snatching because that’s what residents like to do - boast about their victories. He’s very happy to be wrong, however, because what he finds in their room is much nicer. Barry is naked on the bed. He’s lying on his stomach in a pool of blankets and sheets, ankles crossed in the air over his pert ass, indulging in a plate of chocolate covered strawberries.

“Hi, Lenny,” Barry says. His voice is almost a purr. He lowers his lashes and a blush colors his cheeks.

Len draws in a deep breath, forgets to exhale, drops his briefcase on the ground. His fingers work at his tie as he crosses the room and drops to the bed. Barry’s skin is smooth and warm under his hand. The tension melts from Barry’s body and he arches up into Len’s touch. The way his hips press down into the bed tells Len he isn’t the only one hard right now.

“Jesus,” Len swears. “We just had sex a couple hours ago.”

“I want you again,” Barry says. He drops the strawberry stem onto the plate and maneuvers his hand between Len’s legs. Len drops his head back and spreads his thighs to give Barry a better angle to stroke him through his trousers. “That was so hot watching you steal that surgery and telling off that attending and charming the pants off the whole surgical team.”

Len’s laugh is breathy, shaky because Barry is vibrating his palm and it’s so good. “I think you might have liked me in my younger days too. I was a bit of a rogue.”

Barry’s smile is wide. “A rogue. I like that. Take your pants off.”

He doesn’t need to ask twice. Len strips off his clothes as fast as he can and climbs onto the bed. Barry looks very pleased with himself, and Len thinks it’s because of how quickly he’s managed to discompose Len, until he uncrosses Barry’s ankles and spreads his legs and sees that Barry has already fingered himself open. A thrill passes through Len and settles like heat in his lower stomach.

“Fuck, Barry.”

Barry peers at him from over his shoulder, lower lip caught between his teeth. “I’m all ready for you, Lenny.”

Len feels a little shallow for how much this coquettish act is turning him on, but mostly he enjoys it because Barry doesn’t put himself on display like this often and it’s hot. He pushes into Barry hard and deep and doesn’t let up. His fingers press bruises into Barry’s hips where he squeezes too hard and Barry slides up the bed with each thrust until he braces his arms against the headboard and shifts up onto his knees and Len takes the better angle to fuck into him deeper and harder. Barry’s moans urge Len on and on until he feels like he’s going to shake apart with the urgency of Barry’s cries.

“ _Fuck._ Barry, I need to kiss you.”

Barry sits up, plasters his back to Len’s chest, and tilts his head back for Len. The kiss is too wet and uncoordinated, like their thrusts have become this close to the edge. It’s so fucking perfect Len wants to drag it out forever, but his body his too near. He pushes Barry back down and Barry chants “yes” like it’s a prayer and Len fucks into him hard and fast until the world stops and he stills and spills into Barry. Barry’s body vibrates around him, drawing out his orgasm and overwhelming his senses.

Barry goes boneless under him and sags into the tangle of blankets and Len topples over next to him, heart thundering in his ears and chest heaving. He can barely breath as is, much less with Barry ravishing him with kisses and caresses. He feels heady and dizzy even after Barry falls back to the bed again.

“Wow,” Barry says. His voice is hoarse, deeper than usual, so sexy Len wishes he had a short refractory period too. “That was so hot.”

“Hotel sex,” Len says.

“Sex with a badboy,” Barry counters.

“That’s really a thing for you, huh? I should fuck you with my motorcycle jacket on sometime.” Barry moans. “Okay, maybe I’ll really do that,” Len laughs.

Barry sits up finally and grabs the forgotten plate of chocolate-covered strawberries from the bedside table. He eats one to curb his hunger, then holds one up to Len’s mouth.

“You’re sinful tonight.”

“Complaining?”

“Not at all.”

Barry lays down on his stomach with another strawberry that he eats with more relish than strictly necessary.

“Did you get in very much trouble?”

“Not really. There was lecturing and Harrison is going to write me up and I’ll never have privileges here again, but that’s all. It was worth it if it means that hack attending will never consider a child’s limbs collateral damage again.”

“And did my name come up? Or Hartley’s?”

“So you’re all about sleeping with badboys, but not about breaking the rules yourself?”

“Pretty much?”

“No,” Len answers. “I kept you both out of it and Harrison didn’t push.”

Barry polishes off the last strawberry and sets the plate on the floor beside the bed. Len runs his fingers down Barry’s spine and delights in the shivers that follow.

“I’ve been thinking about what Felicity said today,” Barry says.

“Are you still upset?”

Barry shakes his head. “I think she might be right. As much as I hate to admit it, relationships are different when they’re at a distance. Look at me and my dad. Every conversation we have is about the past or future. We have no present tense with each other. It doesn’t mean I don’t love him or that he’s not important to me. It changes everything about our relationship, though. And that’s my dad. I never loved Felicity like that, like family.”

“I know that must be hard for you to accept.”

“Yeah, it is. But I can. I don’t need to grasp for connections anymore. I have more than I know what to do with sometimes.”

Len traces the engagement ring on Barry’s finger and leans down to kiss him softly. Len finds it difficult to open his eyes after the kiss.

“You’re exhausted.”

“Could you not tell how hard I was working?”

It takes all of his effort to climb out of bed and go through his nighttime routine, but it’s well worth it for the warm shower water on his muscles and scent of Barry’s shampoo when they crawl back into bed and their final kisses and goodnights and I love yous before they fall asleep.

o o o

Len and Barry walk into the OR as the nurses are hooking up Hannah’s IV to fluids. She turns to watch them as they gown and pull on gloves.

“So this is the last time I’ll ever be in your OR, right?” Hannah asks.

“That’s the plan,” Len says. He keeps his hands in the air so he doesn’t have to change gloves or scrub again, but he reassures Hannah with a kind look. All she can see of his face is his eyes, but she smiles back so she must read the crinkle around his eyes correctly. “You’ll do great, Hannah. You always do.”

The anesthesiologist asks Len if he’s ready to begin when the clock ticks over to 4am. Len nods and stands back while Hannah tries to count backwards from ten and falls asleep before she gets to eight.

“All right. Let’s get started. Dr. Allen, would you like to open her up?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Dr. Snart.”

He lets Barry do the entire excision of the dying liver, a fact not lost on Barry who asks several times if he should continue.

“Is this a reward for the really great sex?” Barry whispers.

“Are you suggesting I would trade surgeries for sex? Because that would be pretty _bad_ , Barry.”

To his credit, Barry keeps his focus despite the teasing and lifts the organ from the body cavity. A nurse holds out a basin and covers the liver with a lap pad. They have to wait a quarter hour for Nyssa to bring the donor liver into their OR.

“You’re ready for the donor liver already?” she asks, observing their idleness around the table.

“Dr. Allen is speedy.”

She gives Barry an appraising look. “An admirable quality in a surgeon, if speed is also accompanied with precision.”

“Oh, he’s very precise too,” Len says. “Great hands. Very dexterous.”

A faint blush colors Barry’s cheeks and he won’t meet Len’s eye until Nyssa leaves to close her patient. He hisses warnings at Len while they attach the hepatic artery to the new liver.

“I thought you liked me being a bit of a rogue.”

Barry huffs behind his surgical mask. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to put up with you for a lifetime.”

They close up Hannah an hour later and scrub out while she’s wheeled into recovery. Everything went perfectly. Now they’ll have to wait and see if Hannah’s body accepts the new liver.

o o o

“How did the surgery go?”

Sara joins Len on the elevator - he’s going down to the cafeteria to find some food for Barry, who is napping in preparation for a very long day and night of monitoring Hannah’s recovery - looking a little harried, like she’s been cornering surgeons and interrogating them about their procedures as they scrub out.

“Perfectly,” Len says. “Couldn’t have asked for a better surgery.”

Sara breathes a sigh of relief. “Michael Chen coded four times. And Violette’s new liver didn’t pink up for a full minute. I’m a raw nerve right now.”

“Chamomile.”

“What?”

“You need chamomile tea. I’m on my way to the cafeteria. Join me.”

“Oliver and Roy should be out of surgery by now. I have to go see how it went.”

“And you can, in ten minutes. First, you need to take a breath. It’s going to be a long twenty-four hours.”

Sara concedes to getting a tea with a nod. They find Hartley and Laurel enjoying a leisurely breakfast in the nearly empty cafeteria and join them. Laurel has a million questions about their surgeries. Her enthusiasm for her sister’s project is touching. Hartley doesn’t ask any questions. He only stares at Len with some dangerous glint in his eyes.

“That’s like your fifth cup of coffee,” Laurel says, pointing at the fresh cup in Hartley’s hand. “Did you go to Verdant with the others last night?”

“Who went to a club right before my surgery?” Sara asks. She pushes the tea away. Clearly, nothing will calm her down until she knows how all the surgeries went.

“The residents,” Hartley says. “Minus Barry, who was quite obviously otherwise engaged. But don’t blame Jax. He wouldn’t have gotten a peaceful night’s rest anyway. Not with the sexual Olympics happening in the hotel room next to ours.”

Len’s grin is wicked and proud. Sara almost giggles while she takes a sip of her tea. Laurel is the most mature of them all and looks away pointedly to hide her scandalized grin.

“Congratulations, Dr. Snart,” Sara says around a laugh. “No wonder you’re having a great day and Barry is napping at 7am.”

“We should congratulate Barry when we see him too,” Hartley says. “Dr. Snart loves him _so much_.”

Len’s shit-eating grin slips. Goddamn paper thin hotel walls. And he was just starting to like Hartley a little too.

“Excuse me,” Len says, standing. “I told Barry I would be back with food.”

Len can’t escape Hartley that easily. He follows Len onto the elevator and rides up to the fourth floor despite Laurel’s lab being on the second. It’s a good thing Len has an armful of snacks or he might have been tempted to threaten Hartley with bodily harm for being a pest.

“Barry has a type,” Hartley says. “He told me that awhile ago, and I wasn’t sure if I believed him until I met Felicity. But it’s true. He has a type. ‘Damaged, but good. Hurting, but kind.’ His words.”

“What’s your point?” Len drawls.

“He thinks we’re good and kind, all three of us. I don’t know if he’s right. I hope he is. I hope I’m a good and kind person underneath it all. But I don’t know. I have a vicious tongue and I use it mercilessly against the people who have hurt me. But Barry thinks I’m still good and kind. And I hope he’s right.”

Len heaves a breath and stares at the elevator doors, willing them to open so he can escape into the transplant ward where he’s within his rights to kick Hartley out. He doesn’t want to hear this, whatever it’s intended to be, because it’s familiar and it’s painful and it means he has to forgive his grudge against Hartley.

“I don’t like the way you look at him,” Len says. “He’s my fiance. I don’t like the way you are with him.”

Hartley scoffs. Len clenches his jaw. He thinks about dropping the snacks he bought for Barry and punching Hartley before the elevator doors open and he has the opportunity to walk away.

“You’re seeing what you want to see,” Hartley says, “because I promise you, I’m not looking at Barry any differently than I look at Caitlin or Iris. I did it too. After Barry and Felicity broke up, I told myself what I was seeing was Barry being ready for another relationship when that wasn’t true. I can’t even begin to speculate why you see other people lusting after your boyfriend -”

“Fiance.”

“- fiance, but it’s not really happening. At least, not in my case. So if you could stop acting like I’m trying to wreck your home, that would be fantastic.”

“You’re not capable of wrecking our home,” Len spits.

“No, I’m not. Because Barry thinks I’m a good and kind person,” Hartley returns.

Len draws in a deep breath and exhales. Every cell in his body wants to see that sincere look wiped off Hartley’s face so he can keep hating the kid on principle. The elevator doors slide open, saving him from this unwelcome conversation that has nonetheless changed things.

“We’re not friends,” Len says.

Hartley rolls his eyes. “Of course we’re not. We’re bitter rivals for Barry’s love. That’s so much less hassle than being friends.”

o o o

“You totally did it in an on call room after our meeting yesterday,” Sara says. “I thought maybe you and Barry went straight to Hannah’s room, but you disappeared really quickly. Have you been shagging in all our on call rooms?”

Len looks up from Hannah’s latest CBC results with raised eyebrows. “I don’t think I’m going to have this conversation with you.” He pushes off from the nurse’s station and saunters down the hallway toward Hannah’s room. He’s not surprised when Sara joins him. “No,” he answers, “just the one. Mostly we’ve been enjoying hotel sex.”

“As Hartley has informed _everyone_ ,” Sara laughs. “I thought Harrison was going to die of embarrassment when he got caught in _that_ conversation. Man, I love having visiting doctors. I’m going to miss you sex-crazed kids when you go home. We’ll just be back to talking about the best way to remove arrows once you’re gone.”

“Damn patients getting in the way of our fun,” Len quips.

Sara laughs again, bright and happy like she’s not a trauma surgeon in a crime-riddled, declining city and run off her feet trying to make a difference. She really would be better off in Central City. Or anywhere not Starling.

“How is Hannah?”

“She’s doing great. Her CBC numbers look good.”

The first twenty-four hours after surgery are the most crucial. Something could go wrong at any time, especially with a transplant, but the first twenty-four are the indicator and all signs show Hannah making a full recovery. At least for right now. The same can’t be said for Michael Chen who started showing signs of rejecting his new liver hours ago. His first trip away from National City will be his last. He won’t last the day.

Len has checked his phone several times since Lyla shared the news on the results board in the transplant ward. Lisa and Cisco have both sent him several honeymoon pictures - the breakfast spread at the Disney resort, Lisa in Minnie Mouse ears, Cisco’s selfie with Goofy - this week. He’s scrolled through them a couple times now, and farther back through pictures taken at the wedding. He wants these pictures featuring himself and Barry. Some December isn’t a good enough date anymore. He wants it now, before life robs them of the opportunity.

“That’s great news. So you’ll be leaving Thursday? Because if you are, I’d like you to introduce me to the Montgomerys today so they know you have faith in me and will trust my medical judgement.”

“Sure. I’ll also tell them to steer clear of all pediatric surgeons here.”

Nyssa is waiting for Sara in the transplant ward. She seems happy enough - as happy as she ever does - until she spots Len.

“Sara, does anyone know who the Arrow is?” Len asks. “Because if it’s your _beloved_ , I feel the need to leave before I’m turned into a pincushion.”

“The Arrow is a man,” Nyssa answers acidly. “And an amateur clod. Were I the Arrow, my aim would be truer, my vengeance swifter.”

“Hey, Harley Quinn,” Len retorts, “we’re not villains in a comic book. You can take it down a notch. I’m not interested in intruding on your Sapphic love. In case you haven’t heard, I’m engaged to a man who makes me all kinds of happy.”

“Men,” Nyssa fires back. “Sex is not all there is to a relationship.”

“Didn’t say it was. Seems like you hear what you want, in addition to seeing what you want.”

“Okay,” Sara says, stepping into their line of sight to break it. She sounds put out, but she looks like she’s having a great time. “Let’s all agree to be friends. I happen to know that our Chiefs are planning a lavish celebratory dinner for us so let’s not have any bloodshed until after I get some cannoli, okay?”

“I can play nicely,” Len says.

“I also can behave in a civilized way if it’s what you desire, Sara.”

“I do desire it.”

Nyssa nods, which is very interesting. As powerful as Nyssa’s presence is, it’s no match for the softness Sara inspires in her. Len finds himself longing for Barry’s presence at his side.

o o o

Len finds Harrison on the terrace overlooking the firefly lights of Starling at night while dinner is winding down. The view is spectacular, but the distance hides the festering underworld threatening this city. He’ll be happy to see the familiar skyline of Central City tomorrow.

“Well, this has been an adventure like no other I have experienced in my career,” Harrison says. “You’ve made a few enemies.”

“A few friends too,” Len counters.

Harrison looks skeptical, but doesn’t comment on it. “I don’t think I’m going to have much success poaching Oliver Queen.”

Felicity said that Oliver wouldn’t leave Starling, and after his speech at dinner - all about doctors being of service to their city and countering darkness with healing - it’s clear that she’s right. Len wouldn’t mind having the man on staff at CCGH - he’s clearly a great surgeon and keeps a cool head in a crisis - but he’d still rather have Sara instead.

“It was an ignoble pursuit and hopeless from the beginning,” Len agrees. Harrison makes a sound that might be derision or laughter. “You might not need to go home empty-handed, though.”

“You have a candidate in mind?”

“You would have to wait a couple months until after the next boards.”

“Mason is resigning in three weeks. We don’t have months.”

“Mason doesn’t run the ER alone. He’s as much a workaholic as the rest of us, but he goes home too. Iris West runs the ER when Mason isn’t there. She could manage for a few weeks.”

Harrison spins his wheelchair to face Len. There’s a smile Len doesn’t like tugging at the corners of his mouth. “My, my. Leonard Snart championing a resident who isn’t Barry Allen. Two residents, if we’re counting this mystery candidate you have in mind. I never thought I’d see the day.”

Len decides to ignore the not-entirely-accurate jab. He’s worked with plenty of residents before, and even a few interns - well, two interns, but Jax and Kendra are exceptional. “Is it really a mystery, Harrison?”

“No, of course it’s not. I’ve considered offering the job to Sara over Oliver ever since Quentin pointed out our sorry lack of women in leadership positions. Would she accept?”

“Maybe. If you gave a cardio fellowship to Nyssa.”

“I don’t have a cardio fellowship to offer.”

“You will when you promote Eddie to attending.”

“Very good. A strategic solution that’s defensible because Eddie and Nyssa are both excellent surgeons. You’ll make a great Chief of Surgery one day, Leonard. That day might not be too far in the future either.”

“I’m not leaving CCGH,” Len says. “Central City is my home. I love it there. My whole family is there. I’m not leaving.”

“But I might be,” Harrison says. Len looks over sharply. “I don’t know how long the Board will be content with a Chief of Surgery who no longer performs surgeries. Clarissa is stemming the tide for now, but the time may come when I need to step aside gracefully. And if it does, it will be easier knowing a friend will succeed me.”

Len gazes out at the lights of Starling and imagines a day when he’s running the hospital. He’s never considered Chief of Surgery before. It would mean less time with patients, less time in the OR. He’s never been okay with that, but he might be now. The children who come into the hospital will have Barry. They couldn’t ask for a better advocate and doctor.

“You do, Harrison,” Len says. “I hope that time doesn’t come, but if it does, I’ll be ready to step up.”

o o o

Len and Barry rise early in the morning so they can stop by Hannah’s room one last time before they board their flight back to Central City. The Montgomerys will stay in Starling for another couple weeks to recover. Sara will be their doctor and call Len with regular updates on their condition. If there are unforeseen complications, Len has promised to fly back. With that decided, they say their goodbyes and go out front to meet the van taking them to the airport.

“Hey, Wells!”

Quentin Lance storms out of the double doors of Starling General Hospital, cheeks burning with anger and mouth set. Harrison rolls away from the wheelchair lift attached to the van so he can face Quentin.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“To what are you referring, Quentin?”

“To what - I’m talking about you stealing my surgeon. My _daughter_ who is also my best resident and who is supposed to be the future of this hospital!”

Harrison removes his glasses, wipes the lenses, replaces them. “I also stole her wife so I guess you’ll need to fill a trauma _and_ cardio position.”

Lance’s face is beet red now. If there wasn’t a universal taboo against punching a man in a wheelchair, Harrison might have a sore jaw. Harrison motions for everyone to climb into the van, but they’re reluctant to leave a fight between two Chiefs unobserved. Len decides to go ahead and set the example and climbs into the van.

“Sara and Nyssa are coming to Central City?” Barry asks.

Len grins gleefully. “I can’t wait to see Nyssa and Eddie in surgery together.”

“We could make a killing selling seats in the gallery,” Jax agrees. He doesn’t laugh, though. He looks like he’s scheming. Residents really should get paid more so they could stop coming up with scams like this and betting on each other’s relationships.

“I don’t know what kind of hospital you’re running,” Lance shouts, “but you’re all a bunch of rotten thieves! Stealing surgeries. Stealing surgeons. A bunch of criminals. All of you.”

Hartley turns around in his seat next to Ray and says earnestly to Barry, “Please don’t ask Leonard to take his pants off.”

Barry’s cheeks are bright red. “How thin were those walls?”

“Really damn thin,” Jax says.

Barry slumps down in his seat and buries his face in Len’s shoulder.

o o o

“I’m glad to be home,” Barry says.

He toes off his shoes and drops the handle of his suitcase just inside the door, then crosses the room and collapses on the sofa. Len couldn’t agree more. Barry lifts his legs to let Len ease onto the sofa, then lays his calves across Len’s lap.

“We should go to the hospital and round on our patients,” Len says, but his yawn belies his lack of motivation. “I don’t trust anyone in peds except you and Ray. Which could be a problem down the road.”

“I would argue that’s actually a problem now.”

“Yes, but now I’m in a position to take all the tricky cases from my less competent attendings.” Len caresses the denim covering Barry’s calf and wins a happy hum from his fiance. “Harrison is thinking about stepping down. He wants me to be the next Chief of Surgery.”

“Len, that’s incredible! You would make a fantastic Chief.”

“I know.” Barry laughs and nudges his thigh with one socked foot. “I only told him I would do it because I can hand my practice off to you now.”

Barry sits up on his elbows, eyebrows raised. “Does that mean I’m a shoo-in for the peds fellowship next year?”

“Fellowships are subject to committee approval, but I think we’ll vote to keep you around.”

“I was worried I’d have to run to Hub City or somewhere for work every day.”

“That wouldn’t be suspicious at all,” Len says.

Barry ignores the sarcasm. “It’s really good to be home. I’m glad we went to Starling, though. I think it was good for us seeing each other outside of our normal element.”

“It was certainly good for our sex life.” Barry throws an arm over his eyes and groans. “But I think you’re right. I don’t have to worry about the past anymore now.”

Barry looks up, his cheeks still painted pink. “Now you can worry about the future.”

“I’m not worried.”

Barry’s grin stretches wider. “Me either. Except about planning the wedding.”

“You want to start planning the wedding finally?”

“I do, but I also want to be Chief Resident so I don’t know how much time I’ll have to do it.”

“You’re not going to be Chief Resident, babe.” Barry looks affronted. “Chief Resident is about organization, scheduling, counseling your peers. You have to listen well. Sometimes you have to make unpopular decisions and be okay with that. It’s paperwork and giving up surgeries to do it. It’s not going to be you. It’s going to be Caitlin.”

Barry pouts, but doesn’t argue that Caitlin is the better choice.

“In all your spare time this year, between logging as many surgical hours as possible and preparing for your boards and applying for the fellowship,” Len says, a wry smile tucked into the corner of his mouth, “you’ll have plenty of time to pick out place settings and flowers and morning coats.”

“We’re wearing morning coats?”

“We’re wearing morning coats.”

“See, you say that now, but eventually you’ll realize that’s not our style and by ‘big wedding’ I meant the guest list.”

That is very good to know. And a relief. Because Barry is right that morning coats and cathedrals and horse-drawn carriages isn’t really them. In theory, maybe, because it’s romantic and dramatic, but they’re not traditionalist or rule-followers. They’ll never be happy doing what’s expected of them.

“Let’s start with the guest list then,” Len says. “Everyone from the hospital, of course.”

“Even Hartley?”

“He’s our friend,” Len says neutrally and pretends not to notice the triumphant light in Barry’s eyes.

“We should tell everyone we won’t hold a grudge if they get stuck in surgery or running the ER or feel they need to stay with a critical patient, since we’re inviting everyone and someone will still have to work.”

“Okay. What about our new friends from Starling?”

“Sara and Nyssa, but they’ll be part of our ‘everyone’ in a couple months anyway.” Barry draws in a breath, hesitates. “And Felicity. Because a wedding is one of those big, life-changing events that you invite all your friends to, even if you’re not that close anymore, right?”

“Right,” Len says.

“So you’re okay with her coming?”

“I am.” Barry looks skeptical. “I don’t hate Felicity. I’m glad I met her. I don’t see the things in her that you obviously did, but she makes me see you clearer.”

Barry’s brow furrows and he shakes his head slightly, but Len doesn’t quite know how to explain what Hartley told him in the elevator. Barry has a type. But he chose Len because Len defied everything that makes him Barry’s type so they could have a future together. It’s all convoluted in his head so he doesn’t try to share it. It feels like it makes sense and that’s good enough for now.

“Okay,” Barry says, shaking his head again. “I’ll assume that’s a good thing.”

“It is.”

“Right. So let me get some paper.”

They sit on the couch, sides pressed together, writing out the names of all their loved ones long into the night. They’ll be tired in the morning, too reliant on coffee despite having the rare opportunity for extra sleep. But there’s no better time for this than right now. A wedding is a plan for the future drawn entirely from the past. They’ve been reminded this week that the past is never really about the past. It’s about who they are now and how they were made into these men. It’s about how right now will make them in the future. It’s about how they’ll grow together. Become new people together. And fall in love all over again with every new version of each other for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the story! I would appreciate your comments and kudos if you did. I don't have a beta-reader so all mistakes are my own. (I'm happy to correct if you point them out to me.) I’m sorry for the long delay between stories. I was sick for a week and couldn’t sit up, much less write a story. I don’t know if the next installment will appear any faster since it’s sure to be a long one, but I should have some time to write every day again.


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